


? - 043

by Jesonomi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Airplanes, Apocalypse, Diary/Journal, Flying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 15:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8167681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesonomi/pseuds/Jesonomi
Summary: On a desperate plane flight out, someone jots down their thoughts.





	

It’s suffocating. So many people. The metal covers have descended over the windows, a cheap attempt to replicate night. But I know. Right outside these plane walls, 9753 meters in the air, there is light. These people are pretending that the world is fine but it’s not. We could all die at a second’s notice. 

God forbid I have ended up with a seat between two of these liars. Thankfully, no. I have an aisle seat and two empty spots on my right. Yet despite this, I still feel restless and hot. Somehow it drives me to write. The energy flows through my body, into my arm, and onto the paper, scrawling down my incessant thoughts.

We’re supposed to be almost there. The monitor says it’s been ten hours since we left, only four hours left until landing. Until safety. It’s almost like old times. I tried watching some movies. I finished two of them. I can’t watch anymore though, they can no longer distract me from this blasphemy. I can’t keep going. I need a vent. A fantasy to have. But I just can’t picture one. The air is pushing in on me in all directions. The background noise is so overwhelming. So loud.

It’s negative forty-four degrees outside. Celsius. So close to death, yet so far. I trust technology to not suddenly fail on its own. I just don’t trust it to be safe from attacks in this new era. The hypothetical situations give much to imagine. Holes ripped open, the light shining upon us like an accusation of sin, the cold jets of winds gripping us through the blankets and clothes. I might even say we would deserve such a death. I know nobody here and I have no qualms about my own life being forfeit. But alas, there has to be at least one good person here. Maybe that is what will save us for these remaining four hours. 

How insane I must seem, scrawling away in the dark. But to others, perhaps I only seem odd to write in the dark. They cannot see my thoughts, they cannot know what I write. The first step is to realize complete strangers do not care. I have not remembered a single action that these people have taken in ten hours. They will not remember mine. 

Turbulence begins to pickup. The monitor says we have an eighty-seven head wind. We’re going 883 kilometers per hour, ground speed. I don’t think we’re fast enough to escape if they detect us though. 

There’s something breaking on the right side of the plane. People are panicking. This is it. There are no good people here. We’re dead and I don’t care. I’m just going to keep writing down on this piece of paper. Someone just screamed. More people are screaming. The overhead is coming on, the captain is speaking. It was just a false alarm. Some windows broke, probably already weak from age. This plane is old. They’re going to keep the metal covers down. Or at least, that’s what he says. I can’t shake the feeling that we all narrowly escaped death.

True night is coming. It won’t really matter, we’ve lost the windows now. We weren’t fast enough to move with the time zones.

I’m looking back on what I’ve been writing. I can’t tell if my handwriting has just become this bad with time or some other reason. I think it’s legible. Hopefully when I die, the person who finds it can read this.

Maybe we’ll have redeemed ourselves by then. Maybe we won’t be hunted anymore. Maybe we’ll be safe from the demons.

**Author's Note:**

> (2014)


End file.
